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Whispers

A friend reminded me that I had story I needed to tell. I will call him a friend or a kindred spirit.

I finished writing a book recently called, Potholes and Picket Fences. It's a story of my life, from infancy to early adulthood. I realized a few important stories didn't make in. Here is just one. Thanks, Father James, for the inspiration.

Waiting for whispers

I learned to grow physically with a little help from science. I spoke on that at length in the book.  I learned to grow spiritually with the influence of two women: my mother and grandmother. They had convinced me that God was calling. Being one in seven kids in a French-Canadian Catholic family, they thought I was best suited for the job; I was the only one who didn’t complain about going to church every Sunday. They say the call is often a whisper, if so, I think I should've had my hearing checked. I would often seat on the steps of my grade school and look across the street at our church. I listened and heard crickets.

Come and see

My spiritual advisor Father Janise, who looked like bob hope -without the nose- helped me along my vocational path. He convinced me to go to a come and see weekend at Saint Peter's Seminary in London, Ontario. So, I went. I remember I was teamed up with a seminarian. We toured the buildings, and the grounds. It was a beautiful place. I remember the chapel, night prayers and the chanting of voices, which seemed to bounce off the high vaulted ceilings.  I listened and it was beautiful. Like a choir of angels but no whispers. 

In the middle of the night, I couldn't sleep, so I wandered down to chapel. Alone, I prayed and listened. Behind the alter, the first sign of dawn illuminated the beautiful stain glass windows. Time stood still for a while but no whispers. 

Part of the tour included taking in a philosophy class, at Kings College next door. I had read a few philosophy books prior and enjoyed the class thoroughly. But I was wondering if I could hack three years of Philosophy and three years of theology. That and I often stammered on my words. Could I stand in front of a church filled with people? I think I was leaning more toward religious life as a brother instead. More my league I thought. 

I just have one question.

On the final day, I had a meeting with someone in the office to see if I was qualified, I guess. They didn't get the memo neither did I. I wasn't ready to make decision and one question startled me. The question I wasn't expecting was this guy asking me if I was a homosexual. It was a come see weekend not a coming out weekend. Of course, I said no. I was getting medical attention and at the time and had no inclination of sexual preference or why he would ask such a question in the first place. I went home feeling dejected and no closer to getting answers.

You got mail

I was still trying to figure it out. I subscribed to vocation magazines. Every month I had a pile waiting for me in the mailbox. I had received ever possible vocational publication. Secular and religious. So, I read and did some more investigating. While I waited for whispers, I started dating. Now my whispers came with an ultimatum. 

The Retreat

I remember going to a retreat and walking with a nun. She assured me that I would know when I felt it. I remember thinking. Okay God I found this girl, so if you want me, you might want to give me a little more than a whisper. Those weren't my exact words but along the lines. The retreat worked: I retreated. Hearing no whispers I decided that I would go steady. It was for a while, but life threw a few curveballs which I won't get into here. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering what God why would he want someone like me. I had some issues and this time it wasn't vocational magazines. 

Riding the rails

Shortly after this time my girlfriend moved to Quebec.  I decided to move on too. One day out of nowhere I got a nudge. Something told me I had to go to Ottawa, Ontario. So, I was on a train going west with no set plans; just a destination. I will call it a leap of faith. I met an angel along the way, a little old lady. She asked my why I was going to Ottawa of all places. I said it was just a little vacation and that I had never been there. She asked me where I was staying. I didn't have plans, so I said. I hadn't booked anywhere. She proceeded to tell me how expensive thing were in Ottawa. Hope you brought enough money. Suddenly, I was concerned. I didn't have whole lot of cash. I didn't tell her that, but I think she assumed it. If I were you, she said, I would stay at the Y. I thanked her for the tip. The train ride came to a stop, we said our goodbyes and I told I would check the YMCA out. 

A Little light reading

I was a young man in a strange land, but I found a map, the bus route and I arrived at the Y, no worse for wear. The Y is no palace, but I had a bed and a door I could lock. I laid in bed awhile to get used to the noise and took out my leatherbound Jerusalem bible (a gift from my mom) and opened it up. On the wall beside me were numbers. I can't remember the exact numbers, but I opened the good book to a verse with the corresponding numbers. The passage was about the last instructions of Jesus and the accession. I must admit at the time I closed the book and didn't give it a second thought. The next day I went for a walk. Two places of interest: The parliament building and an old church across the street. I was fortunate enough to make it to mass that day. One of the readings got my attention. It was about the accession. I remember thinking, that's interesting I just read that last night. This would be the first of many winks from heaven. 

My stay in Ottawa was short one. I will just say the funds were running out. I did have a return ticket, and a few hours lay over in Toronto, so I went to Saint Michael's cathedral. There was no mass but as God is my extreme witness I was sitting next to a huge stain glass window. The midday sun was streaming in. The picture was Jesus rising up to heaven. I got the hint. The whole trip was a leap of faith. It was proof that God loved me and has never forgotten me. I still haven't figured out what my calling is, but I think it's about being real and telling a good story. 

"Its' not for you to know times and dates that the father has decided by his own authority, but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes to you" ACTS 1vs6-8

What did I learn?  If we have faith and embark on a journey of trust, we will be a witness to the wisdom of witnessing. I like to believe and this is just my belief, that heaven in not just above, it's in, through, and around us, all the time.  I saw it that day and I see it quite often. I live for heavenly winks.

Thanks, Father James, for reminding me to never forget. 

P.S. Sometimes we must go through enough human stuff to realize that maybe God needs us to do so to accession and rise above. 

Dennis Deschamps




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